


Fathers and Mothers

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching for Hawke and Tallis in Chateau Haine, Sebastian and Isabela talk about their parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathers and Mothers

Sebastian leaned against the wall next to Isabela, who was well on her way to being deep within her cups. He didn’t know when she had filched the bottle of liquor, least of all where she had hidden it all this time, but some mysteries were better left to the Maker. “If we’re going to ‘wander like drunken vagrants’, as you so put it, shouldn’t we be… wandering?”

“We have to get into character,” Isabela explained as she took a deep swig of the bottle. “Otherwise the guards will see right through our disguise.”

“I just feel like we’re wasting valuable time sitting here waiting for you to get drunk.”

“Waiting for us to get drunk,” Isabela corrected, shoving the bottle into his chest. “You’re a part of this plan too. Are you really going to let Hawke waste away in a dungeon because of some silly little vow?”

Sebastian frowned a little before taking a hesitant sip. Maker, but he had forgotten how good it tasted. “My vows are not silly. They’re important to me.” He drank deeper.

“Atta boy,” Isabela coaxed with a Cheshire grin. That sat in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth between them. “My husband used to have hunting parties like this,” Isabela spoke suddenly, her eyes lost in some far away memory.

“I’d forgotten you were married.” Sebastian gave a little giggle. He blamed it on the potent wyvern poison that stung his tongue. “It’s hard to picture you playing the hostess, taking cloaks and kissing babies.”

Isabela waved her hand dramatically, a smile tugging at her lips. “No, there were servants for that. I just had to sit there and look pretty. If I got out of hand, he would lock me away with a bottle of wine and a dirty book. Told everyone I was 'indisposed’.”

“My parents used to do the same thing!” The old indignities suffered under his father rose unbidden in his mind and Sebastian took another long, deep gulp. “Minus the wine. And the, uh, dirty book.”

“Of course, that was more preferable than when he would force me to 'entertain’ his guests,” Isabela sneered, her lip curling and her eyes locked on some dusty corner, as though she could still see her dead husband. “Give me the bottle. I need a drink.”

Sebastian quietly handed her the liquor and watched her drown it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she commanded as she finally pulled the bottle away from her lips. “You look like I just kicked your puppy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry either.” Isabela then huffed out a sigh and gave him a slight smile. “So, now that I’ve spoiled the mood, let’s talk about something fun.”

Sebastian almost cringed. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what do you want to talk about?”

“You, of course. Specifically your wild, wastrel days. I keep hearing about how you used to be this drunken, whoring rake - the Shame of Starkhaven - but frankly I just don’t believe it. I want details.” The grin of her face was positively lascivious.

Sebastian could feel his ears grow hot and red. “My misspent youth is hardly-”

“'Misspent’?” Isabela parroted. “I believe you meant well-spent. Or, you know, just spent.”

Sebastian gave a little laugh at the pun. “You’ve been sitting on that one for a while, haven’t you?”

“Oh, at least a couple of months now.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know, but,” Sebastian lifted a finger to quell the pirate’s excited cheer of victory. “For every story you request, you must do one act of charity when we return to Kirkwall.”

Isabela narrowed her eyes. “Oooh, that’s a sneaky, underhanded tactic. I’m almost impressed.”

“One act of charity per story. Do we have a bargain?”

“Fine, fine,” she sighed dramatically, but quickly brightened. “Tell me, who was your first?”

“Oh, Maker,” Sebastian sighed as he leaned his head back against the stone. “Her name was Theodosia. She was my brother’s fiancée.”

Raucous laughter bounced off the stone and Isabela had to quickly cover her mouth with her hand to stifle it before they could be discovered by Duke Prosper’s guards. “You lost your virginity to your own brother’s wife?” She wheezed out. “Oh, this is so much better than I could have ever dreamed!”

“Fiancée,” he quickly corrected, his face a brilliant scarlet. “And they weren’t in love. They hardly even knew each other. They had been betrothed as infants. She came to Starkhaven the summer I turned fifteen to fulfill her end of the marriage contract. The wedding was supposed to take place a month after her arrival, but well… we grew fond of each other. She was closer to my age and my brother was always too busy to spend any time with her, anyway. I was a troublemaker, yes, but not quite the scoundrel I’d grow to be. We thought we were madly in love with one another; really, we were just bored and lonely and it had all seemed so romantic. Like a story or a play.”

“And?” Isabela prompted. “What happened on the big night?”

“Oh, it was awful,” Sebastian admitted, his nose scrunching at the memory of it. “We had no idea what we were doing. She refused to let me see her naked and so it was pitch dark. I accidentally elbowed her in the face, and she kneed me in the stomach. My mother was the one who discovered us. I was mortified. Poor Theodosia was sent packing and I became a pariah among my own family.”

“And so, young Sebastian had gotten a taste of that forbidden fruit,” Isabela purred. “Now there was nothing to keep him from pursuing the worldly pleasures of the flesh. Did you find a teacher to instruct you on all the ways of love? Or did you simply cast your net far and wide and learned at the feet of nameless whores?”

“A bit of both,” Sebastian admitted. “The next lover I took taught me many things, though I learned most of it in back tavern rooms.”

“And who was this teacher?”

Sebastian coughed awkwardly and looked away. “Ironically enough, she was a sister of the Chantry and my religious instructor. After the debacle with Theodosia, my father thought I needed special instruction. Which I received, no doubt, but I do not think he knew just how special this tutelage was. But that is a story you will not get to hear.”

“What?” Isabela demanded. “No! That’s not fair!” No amount of pleading could change Sebastian’s mind and with a huff, Isabela relented. “Fine, tell me about your last lover then, because whoever it was had to be pretty lousy to make you swear off sex forever.”

Sebastian stiffened and he reached for the nearly empty bottle. “Not at all,” he said and took a long drink. “He was… proficient.”

Isabela cocked her brow. “Proficient, eh? How very clinical. What was his name?”

“Lord Terrowin of Tantervale.” Sebastian took a shaky breath. “He had raised the tariff on all goods not produced in his city, including those from other Free Marcher states. The other cities were about to start a boycott, but my father thought he could broker a treaty that would satisfy everyone. I had already been banished to the Chantry by then, but had not yet accepted my calling. I treated it like a inn, coming and going as I pleased, taking delight in the scandalized looks the sisters and brothers threw at me when they saw the bruises on my neck and smelled the cheap perfume on my mussed clothes. Then my father summoned me back. I was so surprised, I didn’t know what to think. I thought it might be a trick. I returned to Starkhaven, of course, I… I couldn’t not return. For the first couple of days, it was like a dream come true. I was treated like family, in a way I hadn’t been since I was fifteen. They didn’t rebuke me for my flirtations or when I imbibed too much at dinner. My father almost seemed to encourage it. And then my father informed me that I was to leave with Lord Terrowin for Tantervale as the new Starkhaven ambassador. I was so excited, I thought he had finally accepted that the Chantry wasn’t where I wanted to be. That I could actually be someone of worth, a son to be proud of if only given a chance. Maker, what an idiot I was.” Sebastian lifted the bottle to his lips but found it empty. When had that happened?

“What happened next?” Isabela asked, her voice quiet and sober.

“Tantervale was so different from Starkhaven. It was so… Orlesian. Decadent. Indecent. I was enthralled. But I wanted to prove to my father and to myself that I wasn’t the… the… fuck up that everyone said I was. That I could be more than that. So, I abstained as best I could. I tried not to get too drunk, slept alone in my own bed. But Lord Terrowin, he made it so difficult. He was handsome. Tall and well-built, with graying black hair and eyes as sharp as flint. He was my constant companion. I sat at his right-hand at all meals, as a guest of honor and tried to ignore the way his fingers would run up my thigh. He came into my room the second or third night, I can’t remember which, and climbed on top of me, insinuated himself between my legs like he had the right. I knew I couldn’t force him off - it would be a political disaster - so I tried to dissuade him by reminding him who my father was, that I was an ambassador. He just laughed at me, told me that this was the only duty that was expected of me. I knew my father cared little for me, but I was his son. He would never… pimp me out for a treaty. I threw Terrowin out of my bed. For a moment I was worried that he would call the guards on me, but in the end he left silently.

"I kept to my rooms, avoided everyone, but a few days later I received a letter from my father. He was furious with me. I remember every word of that letter. He demanded to know why I had treated Terrowin so inhospitably when I had indulged every tavern wench and vagabond in Starkhaven. He said that if I was unhappy with my position, then I had only myself to blame. If I was to act like whore, then who was I to complain when he treated me like one? What other possible use could he have for me, if not this? The next time Terrowin sought me out, I didn’t refuse him. I let him do what he wanted. He wasn’t cruel to me, he made sure I always found my pleasure. Everyone in Tantervale knew I was little more than a glorified courtesan. It was humiliating. I stayed though, at least until the next letter my father sent me. This time he wrote how proud he was of me. That he was pleased to see that I had finally learned some obedience. He called me 'my boy’. I hadn’t heard that endearment since I was a child. I ran away after that, back to Kirkwall and the Chantry.” Sebastian looked mournfully at the empty bottle and handed it back to Isabela with a sad smile, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she repeated, her voice full of indignation. “We have nothing to be sorry for.” She shook her head. “Parents. Fuckers.”

For a long moment neither one of them said anything, just sat side-by-side with their shoulders pressed against each other.

“We should really find Hawke,” Sebastian said. “Or at least an exit. Where did we come in at? This place is like a maze.”

“We could always play counting games and pick doors at random.”

“For some reason, I don’t think- Oh!” Sebastian swayed a little as he climbed to his feet. “I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

He felt Isabela’s arm wrap around his torso. “Don’t worry,” she said with a grin. “I’ve got your back until you find your sea-legs.”


End file.
